


Be Careful (Or Not) What You Wish For

by Dean-Bangs-Cas-In-The-Impala (Maknatuna)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blowjobs, Bottom Dean, Cas is a little shit, Humor, M/M, Porn, Rimming, Romance, Smut, Top Castiel, mythical creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3153725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maknatuna/pseuds/Dean-Bangs-Cas-In-The-Impala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a gift Dean gets a painting at the exhibition, naively assuming that it’s just a beautiful piece of work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fic is inspired by this image which is made and belongs to ladyspira.
> 
> The image link: http://ladyspira.tumblr.com/post/103233967449/no-i-couldnt-resist

Note: Ok, the original drawing has Bacchus (Dionysus) on it, but I didn’t want to make Cas a god of wine, drinking and orgy, instead I made him a mischievous forest spirit, let’s say something like a male nymph ;)

                                                                     

Dean can't stop grumbling and cursing himself for being so stupid and agreeing to this foolish idea. But the weapon of mass destruction, aka puppy eyes, his gigantic younger brother Sam aims at him leaves him with no right of appeal. Thus Dean Winchester, a twenty-six-year-old mechanic from Lawrence with alluring green eyes, short dirty blond hair and pouty, sensual lips, is forced to tear his delicious-looking, blue-jean clad ass from the couch and go with his bitching and stubborn brother to the exhibition being held at local gallery.  
  
"Dean, stop snorting like a horse. It's not like I'm asking you to stay with us at the dinner afterwards. You can leave as soon as I purchase something, I promise," Sam asks pleadingly.   
  
"Why didn't you ask Jess? She would be better company than me." Dean slams the door shut as he climbs into the black '67 Impala, one of the rare things he's proud of.   
  
"She would come if she could. But it's her shift at the hospital and that's why I'm stuck with you." Sam slides his hand through his hair.  
  
Dean lets out a small huff. "Fourteen," he says cryptically.   
  
"Fourteen what?" Sam throws him a confused glance.  
  
"This is the fourteenth time you've done that in the last thirty minutes. You should've become a model for shampoo commercials, instead of being a lawyer." Dean ducks, still laughing when Sam tries to whack him upside the head.   
  
As expected the Apollo Arts Gallery is overcrowded, noisy and boring. Well, for Dean. As for Sam, he looks overjoyed and energetic as a hyperactive puppy, running from one famous person to the other, shaking their hands and greeting them warmly. Dean can't suppress a small laugh that escapes his mouth; it seems like Sam knows the whole town, which is not far from truth. Being a famous lawyer, despite his age, he knows the elite: a lot of famous businessmen, writers, reporters, and artists, a large number of whom also happen to be his clients.  
  
This week's theme for the exhibition is Renaissance and the walls are covered with works from famous, not-so-famous and beginner painters. To kill his boredom while Sam is babbling some nonsense (in Dean's opinion) with a short bald man, the older Winchester decides to walk along the paintings and appraise or criticize the works brought before the audience.  
  
Some of the paintings he finds ridiculous, especially the one with Poseidon standing in his chariot, cutting through the waves of the sea and surrounded by Triton, Oceanids and dolphins. If not for the presence of the beard on Poseidon's face, Dean would assume that he was looking at a heavily pregnant woman with swollen breasts. Huh, and it's painted by a famous artist with thousands of admirers.   
  
"What a piece of fabulous art," Dean mutters sarcastically, approaching the other painting.  
  
As he moves along the works of various artists, he comes to the conclusion that many drawings and paintings which are done by unknown or beginner artists are much better than the ones of famous painters.   
  
But everything has its limit and Dean is getting tired of this place. He feels anxious and wants to escape desperately, when his attention is caught by a painting which steals his breath.  
  
There is a young man on the painting, with dark brown hair and sparkling blue eyes, holding a grape cluster, almost clutching it to his chest. A crown made of autumn leaves adorns his head, giving the man a mischievous, carefree look. There are more grapes on the table where he sits. The painting looks so mesmerizing and real that Dean has doubts that he's looking at a photo. Judging by the clothes the man is wearing, he's either Greek or Roman.   
  
"Fuck me," Dean whistles a little after he comes back to reality. "This is what I call art."   
  
Before he says anything else, there are loud and heavy footsteps behind his back. Of course it's Sam or the 'galloping moose' as Dean taunts him often.   
  
"You like it?" Sam asks, looking at the painting curiously.   
  
"Yeah, I think this is the best one here," Dean responds without looking away from the painting.   
  
"Good," Sam nods and disappears again without saying anything else.   
  
"That was weird," Dean turns around but Sam is nowhere to be seen. The older Winchester gets even more surprised when a few minutes later two gallery workers approach him and begin to remove the painting from the wall.  
  
"Hey, what are you doing? Where are you taking it?" Dean asks somewhat angrily.   
  
"Sir? This painting was purchased just now," one of the workers in white gloves informs him.   
  
"Purchased? By who?" Dean frowns.   
  
"By mister Samuel Winchester," responds the other worker.   
  
"Sammy?" Dean's jaw almost meets the floor. "Did he say for what purpose?"  
  
"I believe for his brother Dean Winchester."   
  
While Dean is standing there dumbstruck, looking at the men who remove the painting from the wall, none of them notice how the young man on the painting quirks his lips into a sly grin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it, guys ;) I had a great time writing this chapter. Poor Dean, I'm still laughing hehe.

"Sam, why the hell did you buy it?" Dean barks at his brother. They are back at Dean's house, actually their parents' old house, which the older Winchester does not want to leave.   
  
"Judging by your looks you were ready to devour it. So I thought it would be a nice thing to do." Sam yawns and stretches his long limbs, settling down on the couch. "What's the matter? You don't like it anymore?"  
  
"No, no," Dean waves his hands. "It's not that. It's just… you paid a fortune for it, I suppose."   
  
"Cost doesn't matter. I could afford it. And surprisingly it didn't cost a lot. What's stranger is that the host couldn't remember who brought that painting to the exhibition."   
  
"Wow." It's all that Dean says.   
  
"Anyway, I'd better be going. I've got lots of things to do. Plus, I'm planning to buy a ring for Jess." Sam's voice sounds all sweet and fond while talking about his potential fiancée.   
  
"Holy shit, Sammy! So you finally decided to propose?" Dean exclaims happily. He's so glad that his brother is getting the apple pie life with a beautiful wife and a bunch of kids presumably, like he always wanted.   
  
"Yeah, hopefully she won't refuse." Sam chuckles nervously.   
  
"Are you nuts? Of course she won't refuse. She's head over heels for you!" Dean claps him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Sammy. Everything's gonna be peachy. Call me when you have good news, will ya?"  
  
"Of course! See you later, Dean." Sam is already in the doorway, heading to the front door.  
  
Dean is left alone in the house. Sighing deeply he turns to the wrapped painting standing in the corner. The young man looks around, deciding where he should hang it. Nah, these walls are too dull for such a splendid work.   
  
"Ah, hell with it. I'll hang it in my bedroom," Dean mutters after a few minutes of thinking. He quickly takes the painting to his room, unwrapping it carefully. Yes, his bedroom seems to be the best option. The shades and tones of the painting and the color of the walls match perfectly. If Dean hangs it on the wall opposite to his bed, he will be able to watch the beautiful masterpiece done by an unknown artist anytime he wants, by just lying on his bed, staring at it. Plus, his bedroom will look more enriched and lively.   
  
"Aren't you a handsome devil," Dean chuckles, looking at the painting which he's holding in his hands. "I wonder who you are and who drew you. Just posing for a painting would not be the only thing I'd ask you if I had been that painter. I'd find more interesting things for your damn luscious mouth and tongue to do." Dean instinctively licks his lips, chasing away the perverted thoughts that are sprinting through his mind. "Anyway, here you go and welcome to your new home." He hangs the painting on the wall.  
  
After watching The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies with a bottle of beer and some leftover pizza, Dean decides to go to bed. Thank god it's Friday night and he doesn't work tomorrow. He quickly undresses, throwing his clothes straight on the floor, too lazy to care, and slides into his king-size bed wearing only black boxers. He's not sure what's to blame - tiredness or alcohol - and frankly he doesn't give a single fuck, but a few minutes later his soft snores start to fill the room.   
  
Two hours later Dean Winchester is sleeping like the dead, sunk deep into the dream world and it's no wonder that he does not hear subdued creaking, cautious footsteps and a quiet sigh, which sounds more like purring.

Dean is not sure what he's dreaming about but he knows and feels with every cell of his body that it's something very pleasant and ahem… erotic.   
  
He hums happily in his sleep and shifts a bit, spreading his legs wider. There is a feeling that someone's skillful tongue is playing, teasing and lapping at his perineum. The tip of the tongue sharpens and brushes tentatively over the tight ring of muscles, as if asking the sleeping man to relax and open up. It feels so incredibly amazing that Dean whines in his sleep, clutching the pillow with his face smooshed into it. He begins to rut against the mattress with slow rolls of his hips, simultaneously trying to sink down on the tongue, which is swiping at his opening.   
  
Dean's moans become louder and more wanton, his thrusts rapid and desperate. His flushed and rock-hard dick, oozing with pre-cum is sprung from his boxers, caught between Dean's body and the mattress. Just a little more, just a little push is what he needs to reach the peak. The warm tongue presses in deeper, together with a lean finger, which instantly finds the sensitive bundle of nerves inside Dean, brushing and massaging it without mercy. The onslaught gets bolder, determined and stronger, taking the sleeping man hostage to the overwhelming pleasure.  
  
"NGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH…" The older Winchester makes a sound like an elephant in labor and cums so hard that his body begins to tremble with convulsions.  
  
His orgasm is so intense and mighty that Dean wakes up dazed and confused. Still weary from sleep and powerful release, the young man reaches to the bedside lamp with a shaking hand.  
  
"The hell?" Dean mumbles as he takes a good look at himself: the comforter is thrown on the floor, sheets all wrinkled and tangled, Dean's boxers are pushed down to his ankles, while he's lying in a huge stain of his own cum and there is a weird feeling between his buttocks that his anus is a broken tap, dripping with water.   
  
Dean mutters something under his breath, rubbing his eyes. He quickly pulls the boxers up and gets up to change the bed sheet. 

As he grabs the sheet to yank it off, there is something that draws his attention. Dean squints his eyes and looms over it. Like a tiger creeping up on its prey, he slowly reaches his hand out to grab it.  
  
"What the fuck?" his voice sounds perplexed.  
  
There is a small, white grape in Dean's palm, mysteriously similar to the one the man in the painting is holding.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean is trying to find any kind of explanation to the weird events but nothing specific comes to his mind. In the end he just gives up and decides to blame alcohol.  
  
"Fuck it," he grumbles. "I guess I had some weird-ass dream. As for the grape… umm… hmm… whatever. It's just a stupid grape, not a freaking bomb." The older Winchester throws the fruit away.   
  
He shakes the blanket and bed sheets vigorously, feeling that there may be some more unexpected surprises hiding in them, and heaves a sigh of relief when there's none.   
  
After taking out a new bed sheet and making his bed, Dean falls down on it with his face planted in the pillow.   
  
"I will kill anyone or anything which tries to disturb my sleep," Dean mutters tiredly, before falling asleep.   
  
Surprisingly, his sleep is peaceful and undisturbed 'til the morning. 

* * *

The morning starts awfully. There's no milk, eggs, or bacon left. Coffee is almost finished too. With a loud cursing and grumbling Dean is forced to move his ass and go to the nearest grocery store.   
  
As he rolls his shopping cart through the aisles, thinking what else to buy, an earsplitting shriek reaches his hearing. There's a woman ahead of him with a little kid in a Superman costume, screaming his head off.   
  
"Pie! I want a blueberry pie!" the kid keeps shrieking, while a deeply embarrassed mom tries to calm him down.  
  
Dean mentally high-fives the boy and grabs a cherry pie from the shelf. He just hopes to spend a quiet evening all by himself, eating a pie and watching his favorite movies. 

* * *

 _He feels warm hands and a hot breath on his naked flesh, which makes him whimper and ache for more touching. His breathing has turned into full on panting at this point. His cock is hard and leaking, throbbing with anticipation._  
  
 _"Please…" Dean moans desperately, rolling his hips, searching for so much needed friction._  
  
 _As a reply, he gets a low chuckle and a tongue swipes over his dick languidly, clearly teasing._  
  
 _"How impatient," a raspy, deep voice rumbles. In the next instant a pair of soft palms grab Dean's hips, stilling and preventing him from moving. "Shh, I will take care of you," the voice coos, while one of the hands curls around Dean's dick and pumps it with a slow, steady rhythm. It feels so mind-blowingly awesome that Dean feels like tearing into millions of atoms._  
  
 _All the air is knocked out of Dean's lungs when a hot and wet mouth lands on his cock, lips gripping the length firmly. The older Winchester's mouth opens as a stream of broken moans and whimpers pour out._  
  
 _"Ah… ah… ah…" Dean moans and rocks into the velvet depth as he's getting the best blowjob of his life. The rhythm changes, becoming more enthusiastic and rapid. The lips around Dean's dick are wrapped tightly, providing perfect suction._  
  
 _"Fuck… oh fuck…" Dean's fingers scrape against the bed sheet when the tip of the tongue slides from his dick down to his hole and laps at it. A surge of blinding white pleasure shoots down his spine and Dean knows that he's losing his ground._  
  
 _"Let it go…" A low, thunderous voice growls into his ear and with a choked sob Dean Winchester cums. He cums deep and hard down someone's throat and it feels so amazing that for an instant everything else loses its meaning. There's only him and crashing orgasm existing in this very minute._  
  
 _"Good boy," the voice coos again. "Now go to sleep."_  
  
Dean jolts up in his bed, heart hammering fast and hard. Just like the previous night, the bed sheet is all tangled up, comforter thrown aside and his boxers pushed down to his ankles again. A few drops of semen are glistening on his stomach, while he feels lightheaded from the powerful orgasm he's just had.   
  
"What's happening to me?" Dean's voice shakes. "I swear to God there was someone else too in this bed." 

* * *

Sam Winchester groans in frustration when his cell phone rings. The young man rubs the sleep out of his eyes, grabbing the phone. There is an incoming message.  
  
"Dean?" Sam says worriedly. "It's four in the morning. I wonder what happened," he mutters as he opens the text message to read.  
  
"What the hell?" Sam frowns, looking at the message which reads:  
  
 _"There is a ghost in our house. It just gave me a blowjob."_


	4. Chapter 4

"Dean, what the hell have you been smoking?" Sam sighs as he stares at his brother. Dean had called a few hours later after sending a hurried text message, telling him to meet him at the Crossroads Diner for lunch.  
  
"I have not been smoking anything God damn it, Sammy!" The older Winchester huffs and slurps his coffee, making angry noises.  
  
"But what you're saying is impossible! It does not make a bit of freakin' sense!" Sam hisses, looking disgruntled.  
  
"Why? Why is it impossible?" Dean puffs up, looking like a rooster ready for a fight.  
  
"Ghosts don't exist, that's why!" Sam's voice sounds louder than intended, drawing attention of some people at the diner. "Listen to yourself, Dean. You sound like you have lost your mind. Should I be considering locking you up in the loony bin?"  
  
"Screw you, Sammy!" Dean retorts resentfully, slumping against the back of his seat.   
  
Sam sighs in defeat and feeling kind of guilty. He didn't want to hurt Dean's feelings, he hates doing so, but the damage is already done.  
  
"Maybe you just need to take a break from work? Maybe you don't get enough sleep and that's how your body reacts? Or it could be some weird dreams. You know, sometimes you have these dreams, which you can't tell whether they're real or not. In any case, I think you should relax and get more sleep. It will go away."   
  
"I hope so," Dean mutters to himself and sinks his teeth into his second huge hamburger just brought by the waitress. "They better stop before I lose my mind for real."  
  
"Or," Sam raises his finger. "Maybe you should get laid and it's your body calling." The younger Winchester chuckles when Dean rolls his eyes dramatically.  
  
"Shut up and eat your rabbit food, Sam!"

* * *

When Dean gets back home, he decides to check the whole house for…well, for anything that looks suspicious and weird. After a few hours of searching and turning the whole house upside down, he's got nothing.   
  
He washes his hands and shuffles to his bedroom, so exhausted he can barely move. Dean falls down on his bed, sighing deeply.  
  
"Sam was probably right and I'm imagining things. It must be stress. I should call Bobby and tell him that I'm taking a few days off. Yeah… Good idea. 'm gonna do so… later…"  
  
Dean's eyes flutter shut and a few minutes later he's sleeping, sniffing into his pillow calmly. He twitches and jerks a few times in his sleep, but other than that there's nothing disturbing his peaceful state. For a while. No one, even Dean himself, knows what he's been dreaming about but it's so intense that the young man jumps up with a startled shout, his eyes snapping open.  
  
He looks around the room with a slightly alarmed expression, as if afraid that there is someone hiding in it. Dean's fidgety gaze falls upon the painting, which is hung on the opposite wall. The older Winchester frowns, squinting his eyes, as he studies the painting attentively.  
  
"Wait a second," Dean mutters quietly, getting up from his bed and approaching the painting on tiptoes. He removes the painting from the wall and goes to the window to take a better look at it at the daylight.  
  
A few seconds later Dean Winchester's frightened yelp sounds in the house and the painting almost falls out of his hands.  
  
"You son of a bitch." The young man's voice shakes uncontrollably while he stares down at the painting.  
  
The grin on the painted man's beautiful face has gotten wider and his pearly white teeth can be seen behind his parted lips. Also, the grape he's holding is half eaten.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ghost stories I found on some random sites BUT I changed the details, years, names, places and so on.

As expected, Bobby calls him an idjit and hangs up before Dean has a chance to explain why he needs a few days off. At this point the older Winchester is pretty sure that he's going nuts. But at least no one is harming or trying to kill him, so that's a plus.   
  
After locking his room and leaving the painting in it, Dean goes to the living room, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge beforehand, and opens up his laptop to do some thorough research about paranormal events.   
  
Google brings up 11,695,785 results for ghost stories and he clicks on the top one, browsing through the site.   
  
 _"In 2005 a new family, the Browns, moved into a small house in Clarkston, Utah, having bought it at a discounted price. They managed to live there for only three months. During that time, voices were heard around the house, and their seven-year-old son Joshua made an imaginary friend with a white-eyed girl, whom he called Cindy. The house began to fill up with rodents, wasps, and other pests; there was random creaking and banging on the walls, the furniture would move on its own, and books would fall to the floor._  
  
 _Paranormal investigators James Smith and Madeline Goldberg did the investigation, during which they had numerous and dangerous encounters with paranormal phenomena. James was pushed down the stairs by an unknown force and broke his leg as a result. The Browns moved out soon after the incident and bought a nice, safe house in California. As for their old house, it still stands today, though it has not been sold after its last inhabitants."_  
  
"Well, good for them. At least they had a place to go and settle down." Dean drinks his beer, scrolling down the site.   
  
 _"This is a true story, which happened to Robert Stone in 2002. The man was famous for his frequent visits to a local bar and love of whiskey. Despite his love for drink, Robert was a hardworking, honest and kind man. Unhappy in his marriage, after work he would go to the bar and have a drink or two while chatting with local folks of Wimberley, Texas. But after the incident, he has not held a glass of alcohol for more than 20 years._  
  
 _It was late night of August 2002 and Robert was driving home in a slightly drunken state. As he kept driving, he noticed a young brunette at the roadside, who kept waving desperately. Robert stopped the car, sincerely worried about the girl and asked where she was going. The girl smiled and named the place which was nearby. Selena, as she called herself, took the passenger seat and Robert started his car._  
  
 _Suddenly, as they kept driving Robert noticed that from under the Selena's long dress instead of her feet, there were goat's hooves showing. At first Robert thought that it was the alcohol's fault but then he took a thorough look and when the hallucinations didn't go away, he almost swallowed his tongue. Not wanting to show his fear, Robert stopped the car and asked Selena to get out and take a look at the front headlight, assuming that it was broken._  
  
 _Selena got out. As soon as she was out, Robert hit the gas and took off. But it did not end so soon. He barely made a sigh of relief when he noticed in the rearview mirror how the 'girl' was chasing after him at an amazing speed, clattering with her hooves and catching up. Robert was not hare-heart but when the creature easily caught up with his car and looked through the window with her burning, red eyes, he peed in his pants._  
  
 _Somehow he managed to get to his house but was not able to get out of the car. Selena kept running around the car, braying deafeningly. Robert tried to honk to draw the neighbor's attention but it did not make a sound. And then the man lost consciousness._

 _The next morning his wife found him still unconscious, with a heart attack. Robert was taken to the hospital and he survived but after this incident he has not drunk a drop of alcohol and categorically refuses to drive late at night."_  
  
"Holy fucking shit," Dean whistles. He has not noticed how his hair stands on its end. "This is some scary shit right here, whether it's true or not. I wouldn't want to encounter some demons like this chick."   
  
In next hour or two Dean finds out that the best way to protect yourself from ghosts is salt, iron and burning their remains. He grabs salt from the kitchen and makes a circle from it around the couch, where he plans to stay for the night, putting an iron crowbar at his hand. Just in case.  
  
"Now come and get me you fucker, if you dare," Dean chuckles satisfied with himself. He plops down on the couch, turning up the volume on his TV and gets ready to watch Dr Sexy. 

* * *

 

Dean stirs slightly when warm fingers touch his belly. He wakes up when the hands begin to tug his sweatpants and boxers down with slow movements. Dean's heart starts to thud frantically and he wants to scream from fear but with tantalizing effort he forces himself to stay calm and not open his eyes, waiting for the next move.   
  
Meanwhile his clothes are pushed down and a warm, silky and somewhat familiar mouth closes around his already half hard member. When the sucking becomes rapid and Dean's uncontrollable moans louder only then the older Winchester lets himself to open his eyes. The TV is already turned off but the light coming through the window is enough to see who the ghost is.  
  
The first thing Dean sees is a crown made of autumn leaves. Strong, muscled arms are resting on the couch, on the either side of his body. A white tunic glimmers mystically under the yellow light of the moon, seeping through the window.   
  
When the realization hits Dean, he screams. And he screams on top of his lungs. And it's not a manly yell. It's a shameless girly squeal, disturbing and earsplitting. The ghost makes a surprised, frightened croak, pulling his mouth off Dean's dick and bolts back. 

For a second before Dean jumps up from the couch, their eyes meet and Dean sees widely opened and shocked blue eyes.   
  
It's the man! The man from the painting!  
  
"Who the fuck are you?" Dean screams at the stranger. "Get the fuck out of here!"   
  
The ghost does not answer, just jumps to his feet and runs away. Dean grabs the crowbar and rushes to his room where he's left his cell phone to call 911. He makes exactly two steps when a loud and unexpected thunder shakes the earth.   
  
Not paying attention to any more paranormal shit, Dean quickly unlocks the door, runs into his room and turns the light on. Another frightened shout escapes his mouth when his gaze falls upon the painting: it's empty! There's no one on it.   
  
Before he does anything else, another rumble of thunder rips the skies and the lights go out. Dean's heart beats wildly and his body is shaking in nervous tremors, while his hands hold the crowbar close to his body.   
  
The older Winchester scans his room full on alert, not knowing from where the danger may come when he hears subdued and distressed whimpers.   
  
And they are coming from his closet.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N** Before I post next chapter of this fic, go and read [**Under The Falling Skies**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1572452/chapters/3337853), where we have reached the boiling point!

 

*******

Dean has never felt so relieved when the lights are back on but it does not help the current situation he's dealing with: a distressed man, ghost or whatever the hell the creature is, hiding in his closet.   
  
The older Winchester makes a cautious step towards the closet, breathing heavily. The crowbar is raised and ready to make a strike if anything unexpected should happen.   
  
Dean reaches his hand out to the closet door slowly, hesitating while he wonders whether he should open it or not.   
  
"Fuck it," he mumbles quietly and pulls the closet door open.  
  
At first he cannot see anything, but as seconds pass Dean notices a trembling pile of clothes. He quickly grabs one of his sweaters, throwing it aside. And bingo! Behind the jackets, coats and various piles of clothes there is a trembling man, looking miserable and frightened. There are stains of tears on his cheeks. The stranger is making distressed sounds like a beaten puppy, looking at the host with his scared blue eyes.  
  
"Please," he asks hoarsely, sniffling into Dean's Metallica's T-shirt, which he's clutching to his chest.   
  
"Who the hell are you?" Dean's voice sounds dangerously close to screaming.   
  
"Please don't hurt me," the man pleads, trying to hide into the depths of the closet.   
  
"Whose ghost are you?" Dean inquires, wrapping his fingers around the crowbar more securely.   
  
"I-I'm not a ghost," the man says, shaking his head.   
  
"Then who the fuck are you? And what do you want from me? Get the fuck out of my house!" In the end Dean still screams.   
  
"Please don't reject me! Please! Please! Please!" the man begins to beg desperately. "If you do, he will come for me! And I don't want to be with him!" The blue-eyed man begins to sob.  
  
To say that Dean Winchester is dumbstruck is an understatement. He has no idea what's going on anymore. Who is this guy, or who will come? Why? For what? All the questions just scramble in his mind.   
  
"What are you talking about? Who will come? And more importantly who are you?" Dean asks, feeling little bit braver than before.  
  
"I am Castiel. And if you reject me one more time Zeus will come for me. I don't want to be his lover!" Castiel breaks down, covering his face with his hands.  
  
For a minute Dean is standing there looking like a statue, while his brain is analyzing what it's heard.   
  
"Um, Zeus? You mean the Greek god?" He stares at the man incredulously.   
  
"Yes." Castiel raises his head, looking at Dean with a pitiful gaze and Dean has to admit that they are the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen.   
  
"Alright, this is getting ridiculous. I will let you come out if you promise that you won't do something stupid." Dean clears his throat, pressing the crowbar to his chest.   
  
Castiel nods vigorously. "I promise."   
  
"Okay, then."  
  
Dean steps aside and Castiel crawls out of the closet, straightening up and adjusting his tunic and wreath.   
  
"Thank you, Dean," he says gratefully.   
  
"Right, sit down and tell me everything in detail." Dean points at his bed and Castiel sits down on it obediently.   
  
"I am Castiel," he says again.  
  
"Yeah, I got that much. I mean who are you?" Dean inquires.  
  
"I am a forest spirit. I lived in a sacred oak grove in Athens. My siblings and I had a happy and carefree life, dancing every night with other nymphs and satyrs, 'til one day. That day Zeus came down from Olympus and saw us dancing. It happened so that when he saw me his passion flared up and he desired me. I ran and he chased after me. I hid in different places, caves, rivers, trees. He sought for me for many months but could not find me. 

“One day when I was sleeping beneath a blue hydrangea, one of his spies saw me and informed Zeus immediately. I was woken up by someone kissing and kneading my flesh. When I opened my eyes I shouted in despair as I saw the face I never wanted to see again. He told me all my resistance was futile and that I would be his. I looked around and saw that I was located between three aspen trees. There is a legend that if you sit between three aspen trees your most desired wish will come true. I used the opportunity and wished that Zeus would not touch me.   
  
"When he realized what I had done, he got very angry. He locked me into a painting and said I would come to life only if someone would desire me in a sexual way. But then he added that if I would be rejected three times, he would have a right to come back and claim me." Castiel takes a deep breath, making a pause.   
  
"Holy shit." This is all Dean can utter in pure shock and disbelief.   
  
"You desired me at the exhibition and I was brought to your house. I would come back to life at nights and satisfy your carnal desires 'til today. You have rejected me two times. Please don't do it again. I do not want to be his." Castiel swallows hard.   
  
"But… but why? I mean he is a freakin' god?" Dean slides his fingers through his hair, chuckling nervously.   
  
"He… he smells bad and is very unpredictable," Castiel stammers. "He turned one of his lovers into a goat because the poor boy did not want to bathe with him. I don't want to be turned into a goat." Castiel shakes his head. "I don't even know how to bleat."   
  
Dean looks at him with an opened mouth and then he starts to laugh. His laughter soon turns into hysterical cackling.   
  
"Are you alright, Dean?" Castiel asks in concern, rising up from the bed.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine," Dean responds wiping away stray tears from his eyes. "I just… I just imagined something."   
  
"Oh, alright," Castiel says softly, sitting down again.   
  
"Is there a way to lift the curse for good?" Dean asks. "I suppose the painting must be destroyed, right?"  
  
Castiel nods. "Yes. The painting must be destroyed but neither you nor I can do that. Only Zeus himself can do that, as it was he who made it in the first place. And as for lifting the curse, there is a way, but it is not an easy one."  
  
"Which is?" Dean's curiosity picks up.  
  
"One has to face Zeus and tell him they want me. But their intention must be sincere." Castiel's saddened gaze falls to the floor.   
  
"I see," Dean hums. "So it's…" But he never finishes as there is a loud and mighty bang on the front door that rattles its hinges. Flashes of lightning and thunder roll and the whole house shakes.  
  
"CASTIEL!" a mighty voice booms as the door flings open.  
  
Castiel jumps up from the bed, crying out in fear and hides behind Dean's back.   
  
And Dean wonders what heck he has done lately to anger the higher forces, when he stands there frozen to the spot and facing Zeus, fuming in divine rage.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand that's it folks! Thank you for your kudos, comments and bookmarks.
> 
> See you in Under The Falling Skies ;)

"Castiel," Zeus says again, and the might of his voice rattles the window glass. "I have come to claim you!"  
  
"You can't!" Castiel exclaims from behind Dean's back, trembling like a leaf. "I have not been rejected thrice!"  
  
"Oh, really?" Zeus scoffs, folding his arms on his chest.   
  
Castiel nods frantically, grabbing at Dean's T-shirt like it's his last hope.  
  
"And do you think he will not reject you after he learns who you really are?" The God of thunder laughs and a few cracks appear in the ceiling.   
  
"Woah! Hold your horses, Casanova!" Dean steps forward, secretly hoping that he won't be smote right there and then.   
  
Zeus shifts his gaze from the frightened forest spirit to the older Winchester.  
  
"Who is this strange human?" he asks.   
  
"I am Dean Winchester, the host of this house, which you burst into uninvited," Dean waves his hands. "So, a little respect here?"  
  
"Don't test my patience, puny human!" Zeus says dangerously and the air immediately charges around him. Dean can see a black cloud above the God's head flashing lighting.   
  
"Castiel told me that in order for you to claim him, he must be rejected three times," Dean begins.   
  
"That's true," Zeus nods.   
  
"So, let me enlighten you, I have no intention rejecting him one more time, so you could force yourself upon him."   
  
"Even after I tell you that he is not as naïve and innocent as he pretends to be?" Zeus arches his brow and Castiel turns pale.  
  
"What do you mean?" Dean's eyes narrow.   
  
"He used to be a little thief and swindler. Once he stole Hermes' golden sandals and it took us three months to find them. Then, there was the case when he cut my daughter Artemis' hair while she was sleeping near a lake and no one saw him. She was so angry that Olympus was shaking from her screams. If that's not enough, he seduced Apollo and asked him to steal my scepter for him. I am forever thankful to my son that he had not lost his mind and agreed to Castiel's crazy request. So, yes, Castiel is a good manipulator. He will use you to his advantage. Now you tell me, Dean Winchester, do you still want and claim him as your own?"   
  
There is a disturbing silence in the room that is broken by a distant buzzing of a fly somewhere in the corner. Finally, Dean steps aside, turning to face Castiel.   
  
The brunet is silent, looking down at the floor, not meeting Dean's gaze. There are silent tears running down his face.   
  
"Is that true?" Dean asks hoarsely, not knowing what kind of an answer he wants to hear.   
  
Castiel is quiet for a while but then nods. "Yes," he whispers brokenly. "And I am sorry I ever did those things."   
  
Zeus' grin grows wider, feeling approaching victory.   
  
"You don't need him," he tries to convince Dean. "You will find someone who's more reliable and honest. Give him to me."   
  
"And what will you do with him if I reject Castiel? Will you turn him into a goat too?" Dean turns to the God of thunder.  
  
"Ah, you mean Linkast? That was a long time ago. He is not a goat anymore," Zeus chuckles. "As for Castiel, no, I will not make a goat out of him, but he must be ready to satisfy my carnal needs whenever I tell him to."   
  
"So, basically you do not care whether he wants it or not?" Dean frowns, feeling anger slowly filling him up.   
  
"That's right," Zeus nods. "I do not need permission from my servants."  
  
The older Winchester lets out a wheezing exhale. He coughs and clears his throat to sound more confident.  
  
"Here is my answer. Castiel deserves a second chance. It's not like he killed anyone. True, what he did was unpleasant and unjustified but are you or offspring innocent? How many mistakes have you made? How many humans have you hurt? So, I am not rejecting Castiel. And I, Dean Winchester am telling you that I am claiming Castiel as my own. Now, destroy that fucking painting because it has no purpose anymore!" Dean is shaking from all the emotions and jerks slightly when someone comes from behind wrapping arms around his waist and rests their chin on his shoulder, whispering quiet "thank you" in his ear.   
  
Zeus blinks confused, trying to apprehend the host's words. Then his face turns red from rage and wrath and he lets out a roar which knocks Dean and Castiel off their feet.  
  
Lightning flashes, thunder rumbles and the empty painting on the wall catches fire. The chandelier on Dean's long-suffering ceiling gives up and crashes down on the floor, scattering its crystal shatters. Zeus disappears as unexpectedly as he appeared.   
  
As soon as the God of thunder is gone, Dean jumps up, opening up the window and throws the frame of the painting outside, before the whole house is engulfed in fire.   
  
"So it's over now?" he asks briefly.  
  
"Yes. My cage is gone." Castiel responds, making a step towards Dean. "Dean, I…" he begins but the older Winchester cuts him off.  
  
"Cas, don't. What's buried in past, should remain in past." Dean sighs. "No one is perfect."   
  
Castiel nods frantically. "I realize my mistakes and I repent. I swear to you I will never use you or hurt your feelings. Please trust me, Dean."   
  
Dean closes the distance between them, looking into the forest spirit's sincere eyes.   
  
"I believe you, Cas." He adds with a small smile.   
  
"Thank you," Castiel whispers, leaning forward and meeting Dean's lips on his way.

* * *

 

They are too busy ripping each other's clothes off and never make it to bed, though it's only a few feet away from them. 

In the pile of clothes, Dean is writhing under Castiel, grabbing the brunet's head with both hands while Castiel presses his lips to Dean's neck, licking and feeling a rapid pulse with his tongue. The scent of their arousal is heavy in the air, making both men's minds swim in haze of need and want.   
  
Panting from overwhelming arousal and desire, Castiel presses his cock to Dean's already stretched and wet hole, muttering "Please, let me."   
  
Dean, moaning and whimpering opens his legs wider invitingly, bucking up his hips, thus encouraging Castiel.   
  
With one smooth thrust Castiel is in, sliding all the way and ripping a loud and wanton moan from Dean's lips. He stops for a second, letting his partner get adjusted, feeling Dean's hot and heavy breathing on his neck.   
  
"Cas, move," Dean pleads, digging his fingers in the muscles of the brunet's shoulders, wiggling his hips.  
  
"As you wish, Dean", Castiel growls low, leaning forward and lifting Dean's hips a little.  
  
"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelps when Castiel draws out just to slam back in right into Dean's prostate and sets a punishingly rapid pace.   
  
"Fuck! Oh, fuck, yes… like that… God damn it! Yes… right there… right fucking there… aaaaaah!" Dean meets Castiel's every thrust, fucking himself down on the brunet's dick.   
  
Everything else in the world loses its meaning for Castiel. There's only Dean and his loud, pleased moans, showing how greatly he enjoys the process. The brunet steals another moan from his partner, covering his lips and plunging his skillful tongue into Dean's mouth, melting from mind-blowng pleasure and feeling of Dean's tight muscles around his dick.   
  
Dean's moans drag Castiel near the edge and he knows that he won't last much longer. Breathing hoarsely and heavily, he gathers all of his strength, pounding into his partner harder and deeper, leaving red fingerprints into Dean's skin.   
  
"Dean… I-I'm close," he moans, as sweat trickles down his neck.   
  
"Ah… me… ah... Cas... Me too… Fuck!"  
  
Castiel moans, closing his fist around Dean's flushed and angry-red cock, which is glistening and spurting pre-cum, and pumps it.  
  
With a loud profanity and a broken shout Dean comes hard, seeing shuttered stars behind his closed eyelids.   
  
Seeing Dean's blissed-out face and feeling his clenching muscles around him throws Castiel over the edge. With a guttural moan he shoots his release deep inside his partner, falling down on Dean and feeling the other man wrapping his arms around him. 

Coming down from their shared high, Dean is still clinging to Castiel as if afraid that the man will disappear like a ghost.   
  
"I won't leave, Dean," Castiel assures him, guessing the other man's thoughts. "I will stay as long as you want me."   
  
"Good," Dean mutters, feeling drowsy and contented.   
  
Castiel pulls out slowly, curling around Dean and pressing up from behind against his back. Dean hums when he feels warm body on his cool skin.   
  
"We should get cleaned up," Castiel tells him.   
  
"Later," Dean mumbles, half asleep.   
  
"Dean," Castiel calls suddenly.  
  
"Mmm?" the older Winchester stifles a snore.   
  
"Are we… are we boyfriends now?" Castiel asks cautiously.   
  
Dean is silent for a few seconds and then adds. "Yeah, I guess so."  
  
Castiel makes a sound which awfully sounds like a cat purring and closes his eyes smiling happily.

 

The End

  
  
**Bonus Scene**  
  
It's Dean's birthday and Sam is there. They're having a pizza, Dean's favorite apple pie, and lots of beers.   
  
Sam is already drunk, babbling nonsense and laughing at his own jokes.   
  
"Come on, dude. Let me get you to bed." Dean helps him up to his feet.   
  
"No, not bed. Couch," insists Sam. "Wanna *hic* watch… movies…"  
  
"Cas, help me with this gigantic moose, would ya?" Dean turns to Castiel.  
  
"Sure." Castiel stands at the other side of Sam, supporting his weight as he and Dean drag the younger Winchester to the couch.  
  
"Wait." Sam suddenly halts raising his finger in the air. "I remember who you remind me of." He pokes his brother’s brother in the chest.  
  
"How interesting. And who?" Dean asks curiously, laying Sam down on the couch with Castiel's help.   
  
"He reminds me of your painting," Sam gesticulates, drawing abstract figures in the air. "Remember the painting I bought for you? There was… there was a man in that painting… and… Cas he just… looks… like him… a lot…" Sam's speech quiets down and he starts snoring.   
  
Dean and Castiel share a mischievous glance.   
  
"I wonder what he would say if he knew the truth," Castiel chuckles.   
  
"Probably freak out," Dean lets out a small laugh. "But let's leave it the way it is."  
  
"Mmhmm," Castiel hums his agreement. "I learned a new pie recipe and want to try it. Do you want to help me?" he asks with a sly grin.   
  
"What? Now?" Dean asks, surprised.  
  
"Yes. Right now." Castiel's voice is full of promises.  
  
"Hell yeah!" Dean licks his lips. "But only with one condition."  
  
"Which is?"   
  
"We will bake it naked." Dean waggles his eyebrows.   
  
Castiel laughs. "I doubt we will be able to bake it then."  
  
They head to the kitchen, stealing hungry kisses on their way, stumbling and laughing, while Sam snores loudly on the couch.


End file.
